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Poor Dilly

Dilly isn’t very well. She has got one of the stomach bugs going around, not to any spectacular extent but she feels generally miserable and has stomach ache and if she tries to eat it gets substantially worse, so she’s not eating at all. So she didn’t go to work today. I took Squiffany to nursery school and then entertained Pugsley for the day, which was planned anyway. He went trouser and pant less for the day, as he is fine at using a potty as long as he isn’t wearing anything, but if he is, he forgets it isn’t a nappy and there is the risk of a Little Accident. Anyway, all went well and he ate a substantial lunch of salmon, pasta and cheese sauce. Cucumber and lettuce were served which he likes in theory but rarely actually eats. He did have half a banana and some orange juice though.

In the afternoon, Dilly got up and cuddled Pugsley on the sofa, and I went to fetch Squiffany. We went and bought some biscuits and crisps. Dilly needed to sleep again, so I suggested the children took food into their bedroom. Squiffany, who is a practical and cheerful little girl, started to spread out a crocheted blanket on the bedroom floor. “We can have a picnic, it’ll be more fun!” she explained. We turned on the radio, spread out the food and put out cushions to sit on. I had to go to a meeting, but they said they’d play quietly.

My meeting, well, can’t really say anything (this confidentiality nonsense) but I must say that all of us there, of whom I was by far the least important (this is not modesty at all, but simple truth, if only in this instance *ahem*) wouldn’t get very far if we left it to the people whose job it is to help, but who merely get in the way. There are doers and there are pen-pushers.

I made a lovely fish pie for dinner. Dexter is on later. I shall do some knitting in the meantime.

Oh, by the way, I’m finding Mahler a bit dull, to my surprise. Shostakovich is going well, however. I haven’t tried to learn a poem yet and I haven’t done anything new or met any bloggers. But it’s still January and I’ve the whole year, after all.

I am so sorry to Dilly, but when I read the beginning of your account I thought you were talking about *Tilly*, and I was preparing a comment in which I shared some of the things we did to help Zephyr get over her stomach bug.

I used Dilly, originally, as an acronym of course, and also because (as with the Sage) I thought of going with a herb theme for my family’s names, before it dawned on me that it would be just too precious for words. Tilly is Tilly’s real name, however.

I shall embrace the dullness and work through it, Dotterel. Thank you for the reassurance.

The Unobservant Eye of Z

Dramatis personae:
My husband, Lovely Tim or LT for short (though he is actually tall).
My late husband, the Sage, aka Russell.
My children: Dearest daughter Weeza, who has London Ways, is married to Phil. Their daughter is Zerlina Buttercup and their son is Augustus Bufo. Elder son - Al X, is married to Dilly. Their children are Squiffany Virgilia, Maximus Pugsley and Hadrian Swallow. Younger son - Ro married to Dora and their two-year-old is Rufus Russell.
Big Sister: Wink. She lives in Wiltshire, 230 miles away, but we're much closer than that.
We live with our cat Eloise, a black tortoiseshell half-Ragdoll.
Bantams live in the garden and cats live in the barns but we feed them and they have ambitions to be pets too. In addition, cows come to visit in the summer. Mostly, they stay in the fields. None of them has got a hoof in the door yet.
There is an annexe to the house, where Roses lives and her beloved, Lawrence, spends a lot of time there. Her son, Boy, lives there too.

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Updating takes too much memory, sorry - but then I'm not very young any more, so am hanging on to the memory I've got. Please don't look for any significance in the order - I'm not drunk but I am disorderly.

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Oh, what's the problem? This is hardly Great Literature. I'd appreciate anything taken from here being acknowledged, and I might change my mind if I'm suddenly proclaimed as the Literary Queen of the Blogosphere - but I probably wouldn't. Do what you like, just as long as it doesn't extend to defamation of anyone, even me.

Actually, you want to pass off what I say as your own, I might even be flattered. Let's face it, who cares anyway?